


Between the Shelves

by drainbamage954 (cats_cradle6766)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bookshop, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8955022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cats_cradle6766/pseuds/drainbamage954
Summary: Kim Jongin works at a bookstore. It's nothing special, except for the regular customer that always manages to catch his attention as soon as he walks in the door.





	

Kim Jongin works at a bookstore. And not one of the too large commercial book chains where there were too many shelves and the chairs were all the same with a built in complimentary coffee shop, no. Jongin works for a small hole in the wall bookstore that specialized in nothing really but to serve the crowds of artistic hipsters who wanted something unique. 

Jongin didn’t really care too much about that, all he cared about was that the job was relaxed and none of the furniture matched and it smelled like old stories and childhood mystery. He spent most of his time behind the counter working on homework or doodling on napkins from the coffee shop next door. 

The job was less about the idea of working in a cozy bookshop for Jongin than it was about having a steady paycheck to help with tuition. For Baekhyun, who had got him the job, the bookstore was his avant-garde life. For Chanyeol, it was absolute discomfort, having to press his too large limbs into small spaces where he was required to be quiet. 

Jongin didn’t care much, just spent his time not at school and dance practice and art classes nestled among the shelves, dusting occasionally as he rearranged a few titles and authors. 

It was on a slightly chilly early spring day that Jongin first noticed him. Baekhyun was arguing quietly with Sehun across the counter about the merits of comic books versus classical literature when the bell had sounded, alerting them to someone breaking the usual calm of the store by perusing the shelves. 

However, this man simply walked in, collar turned up against the chill, gave a brief smile and walked over to the small table and squishy chairs by a window and sat down, pulling out his laptop and a stack of papers. 

Jongin frowned. “Do we allow that?” he asked, turning to interrupt Sehun and Baekhyun. 

Baekhyun looked confused for a moment before craning his neck and seeing what Jongin was talking about. He shrugged, looking at the younger yet taller boy. “He comes in a lot,” Baekhyun answered, leaning back behind the counter. “Usually sits for a few hours doing… whatever, buys some of Kyungsoo’s chocolates and leaves.”

Jongin looked back over at the silently working man. “Is it okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Sehun asked, puzzled as he looked at the stranger. “He’s not setting this place on fire or anything. Plus, we’re a chill place, not some conglomerate trying to force purchases down your throat.”

Jongin watched the stranger out of the corner of his eye for the rest of the day. 

Two days later, the stranger was back and, almost as if he felt him, Jongin’s eyes were drawn to him as he sat, eyebrows creased together in concentration at his comfy chair, pouring over hand written notes and tacking away at a computer. 

It became a routine. The man would walk in, shoulder bag over his left side, a coffee smelling slightly of cinnamon in his right hand, give a small smile and wave at the staff behind the counter, before making towards the squishy chairs and table, settling down to work.

And every time, Jongin watched him, sometimes blatantly, sometimes surrupticiously, from wherever he was placed around the shop. From behind the counter, from between the shelves, from beside the register as he rearranged the displays and chocolates. And every time the man left, he would purchase a small chocolate from the assortment Kyungsoo would drop off every Thursday. 

Jongin would tell him the total and give him a small smile.

The stranger would smile back, tell him to take care, and leave, his eyes warm and kind and making Jongin feel slightly giddy.

“Our friend is back,” Baekhyun commented one day, the warm spring weather putting him in a particularly good mood as he bounced about the shop. Jongin looked up from the shelves where he was sorting copies of first edition science fiction. Baekhyun nodded towards the table and comfy chairs, grinning at Jongin.

Jongin blinked and looked behind him to see the familiar stranger Baekhyun had taken to calling ‘our friend’ just settling into his usual chair, coffee in hand. He looked back at Baekhyun, a question on his face.

“Why don’t you talk to him?” Baekhyun asked, cocking his head to the side. 

Jongin frowned and went back to science fiction authors. “Why would I do that?”

“You watch him all the time,” Baekhyun said and Jongin wanted to slap him for not keeping his voice quiet. “It’s kinda pathetic if you don't at least say something.”

Jongin frowned at the books in front of him. “What would I say? ‘Hello, sir. Can I bother you, because I want to stop undressing you with my eyes and actually do so.’ Yeah, talking to him. So easy.”

“Stop being dramatic, you don’t do it as well as me,” Baekhyun said, frowning at Jongin, who rolled his eyes.

Jongin said nothing, just glanced behind again to the familiar stranger. 

Jongin noticed things about him. 

Small things that you would only notice after watching for a while. 

He always got coffee. Hot and a tall size. Even if it was warm outside, his coffee was hot. 

He only wore glasses on the weekend. They were black rimmed and slipped down his nose slightly, requiring him to push them up, which he did, with the middle finger of his right hand.

He listened to his own music. Something that Sehun had initially been offended by (“My music is amazing.” “You only say that because no one else has heard of it before.” “But it’s still amazing.”). This was curious for Jongin, because the music in the bookstore was often quite nice (Sehun did actually have great taste in music), but the stranger often listened to his own. 

He rarely frowned. Instead his mouth always held a small sort of smile and turned slightly up at the corners.

He was also incredibly handsome. And not in the immediate way that you knew Sehun or Yixing were handsome. But in the gentle subtle way his thin lips balanced his sculpted jaw, his straight nose in perfect balance with dark brows and deep warm eyes. 

Jongin had tried to convince himself for a month that it was just curiosity. Then Sehun had hit him over the head a couple of times with a copy of Pride and Prejudice and told him to stop being an incomprehensible moron and lying to himself. 

Near the end of the semester, as Jongin is dropping by the bookstore after his last exam to help out Baekhyun (the smaller boy had texted him five minutes after his exam demanding a visit because he was so bored), he settles in one of the chairs by the fantasy wall and takes out a few pieces of paper, doodling on them while nibbling on a muffin he brought from the café next door. 

The small tinkling of the bell has him looking up automatically. He is met with a curious pair of familiar warm eyes and a softly smiling mouth. Jongin swallows and feels a slight shiver pass over his skin. The stranger smiles at him as he walks past, glancing up briefly as he sits down at his regular spot and takes out his laptop. Jongin smiles weakly back. 

The next moment, Baekhyun is dropping a book into his lap. Jongin looks up, frowning slightly. “What’s this?” he asks, looking up at his friend.

“An intervention,” Baekhyun says, arms folded over his chest. 

“Why?” Jongin frowns.

“Because your staring is starting to creep me out, and I live with Kyungsoo who stares like a tarsier.”

Jongin frowns at him still. “What the hell is a tarsier?”

“Just, do something,” Baekhyun sighs. “Or I’ll go tell him you want intimate knowledge of his pants.”

“You’re a horrible person,” Jongin says, scowling as he adds a few touches to his drawing. 

“You love me,” Baekhyun says, smirking to himself before tapping Jongin’s drawing. “That’s good, by the way.”

And then Jongin has an idea. As Baekhyun walks away, he folds the paper in half, the sketch on one side, and scrawls a small message inside of the paper. It is a drawing he has been absently copying for a while, trying to get it perfect. And today’s drawing is one of the few he doesn’t want to set on fire. He sits back, picking at his muffin, and letting his eyes drift over the titles beside him. 

As Baekhyun drifts back over to him, flopping down opposite him, Jongin stops the tirade before it starts. “I’m giving him a note,” he says as Baekhyun opens his mouth.

Baekhyun stars at him. “A note,” he repeats. “What, are you 12, Jongin? Please tell me it’s not ‘I like you. Do you like me? Check yes or no’ because I may have to kill you.”

“You have such faith in me,” Jongin says, smiling sickly at Baekhyun. “It’s so heart warming.”

“True love,” Baekhyun says, smiling sickly back and shaking his head slightly, his eyes getting a ridiculous sheen in them that would be terrifying if ever used by clowns. “So, what, are you going to just walk up and give him the note and stand there awkwardly as he reads it?”

“No,” Jongin says, glancing over at their ‘friend’ as he takes a sip of his coffee. “I’m…” he trails off, face reddening slightly as he thinks about his words. “I’m going to leave it on his things when he gets up for the bathroom.”

“And you know he’s going to the bathroom how?” Baekhyun asks, eyebrows raised.

“He gets up about fifteen minutes after finishing his coffee,” Jongin says, feeling his face grow still hotter. 

“You, sir, are a bonafide stalker,” Baekhyun says, grinning far too wide. “I’ve never been so proud and disturbed in my life.”

“I learned from the best,” Jongin says, waggling his eyebrows. 

Twenty minutes later, the familiar stranger gets up, closing his laptop halfway as he makes towards the small bathroom near the back of the shop. Jongin waits until he can hear the soft click of the door before practically launching himself from his chair, rushing over to the paper littered table and slipping his drawing and note on top of the keyboard before hurrying back to his seat, flopping down and trying to arrange himself in the most natural position he can, heart racing.

The only problem with doing all of these things exceptionally fast is that now Jongin is left waiting for the other man to return, staring at the edge of his note and wondering if he should have put it somewhere else, if he should have adjusted it, if he should just go and grab it back and rip it up because this is stupid stupid stupid. 

But before, Jongin can hop up and grab the doodle note, the bathroom door clicks and he’s fumbling along the bookshelf for a book, any book, to hide his face behind and pretend his reading as the stranger walks back to his table. Over the top of whatever paperback he’s holding, Jongin watches the man sit down, open up his computer and stare for a moment, head cocking just slightly to the side as he looks at the doodle note. 

Then he looks up, directly into Jongin’s eyes and, flushing madly, Jongin drops his eyes to the book in his hands. He’s holding it upside down. He glances back up in time to see the man, smiling, open his note and read, eyes traveling over the words gracefully before finishing, and looking back up at Jongin. This time Jongin doesn't look away, instead allowing himself to nod when the man makes a small head jerk that asks silently ‘from you?’

The man just smiles at him, before reaching into the piles of things on the table and taking out a notebook, opening it. Jongin watches as he writes something down, pouring over the paper before finally ripping it out and folding it in half. He then clears up his things, packing away his papers and laptop gracefully, before straightening up. The folded paper is still lying on the table. He nods to the note, silently saying ‘that’s for you’ and Jongin nods, smiling shyly in understanding as the other man leaves. 

The door has barely clicked shut before Jongin once more launches from his chair towards the other table, snatching up the note and holding it carefully. Hands shaking, he hears Baekhyun scurry up behind him. Tentatively, he opens the note and stares at the words on the page. 

“Dude, what did you write in your note?” Baekhyun asks from over his shoulder, where he’s reading the note. 

“I asked him why he comes in here almost every day and works listening to his own music. If he doesn’t like the music here, why come, especially since the music is nice. So why come in, listen to his own music, and never change seats?” Jongin answers as if in a daze, his eyes skimming over the words on the paper.

“You’re a real modern day Romeo, you know that?” Baekhyun says, shaking his head. 

  


_Dear Artist,_

  


_Thank you for the drawing._

_I come in every day because there isn’t anything quite like sitting among whispered words trapped in pages, just waiting to be opened by curious fingers. They give me inspiration and a sense of belonging, as if one day I will be one among them and become a part of their world._

_I do actually really like the music here. However, when I work, I work with my moods, and mood is often complimented by sound. So, as you noticed, I listen to that which reflects my mood and what I’m working on. More often than not, this does not correlate with the music currently playing. Maybe it will some day._

_Some of the music I was listening to today was as follows:_

  


_Max Richter_

_Ulrich Schnauss_

_Four Tet_

_Yann Tiersen_

_John Hopkins_

  


_Maybe you know them. What do you listen to? I’m curious, seeing as you often argue with the other clerk about what is music and what is people talking at drums. Perhaps you could show me what you like sometime._

  
  


_-Kim Jongdae_

  
  


_P.S. And yes, I have noticed you watching. You’re not as subtle as you think when you sort through the prose in aisle five._

  
  


Jongin stares at the letter, the words moving slowly through his mind as he reads the letter on the page. He had written back, and quite nicely at that. 

“Wow,” Baekhyun says from behind him. “That’s more eloquent that you’ve ever been.” 

Jongin nods, not entirely thinking, before dragging his eyes from the paper to look at the spot where the man, Kim Jongdae, had been sitting. Except, instead of an empty table, there’s one more thing waiting for him. Eyes widening, Jongin leans down and picks up what appears to be one of the new iPods. 

“He forgot his iPod,” he says blankly, staring at the device. 

“He what?” Baekhyun says, leaning into his side slightly to look at the technology in Jongin’s hand. 

“He forgot his iPod,” Jongin repeats, turning to Baekhyun and showing the older boy the object. 

The two of them stare at it for a moment. “He talks about his music,” Baekhyun says, frowning at the iPod in confusion. “Maybe he wants you to listen to it?” Jongin frowns and taps the home screen. A locked screen comes up and he stares at it. “Or not? Wait, what about calling him?”

Jongin blinks at him. “I don’t have his number,” he says. 

Baekhyun rolls his eyes and points to a few digits scrawled at the very bottom of the page. “Yes, you do,” he says, sounding painfully exasperated. 

Jongin frowns, pulling out his phone and punching in the numbers listed at the bottom of the paper in his hand, his heart beating slightly faster than usual. Baekhyun leans into him, trying to press his ear against his own to hear the phone ringing as well. 

Both of them jump in surprise when the object in Jongin’s hand suddenly vibrates and emits a soft ringtone, Jongin’s eyes widening in realization as Baekyun turns to him, mouth open slightly. 

Kim Jongdae hadn’t left his iPod. He’d left his phone. 

There is brief moment where they two boys stare at each other before Jongin is bolting from the shop, a phone clutched in each hand as he races out onto the street, searching for the familiar form of Kim Jongdae. 

Heart pounding, Jongin’s eyes scans up and down the street frantically, looking for Kim Jongdae anywhere. He isn’t anywhere. Adrenalin pumping through him at rapid speeds, Jongin begins to run in no particularly logical fashion, up and down the street, ducking into shops, scanning windows, looking down small alleyways, and glancing around street corners, trying to find where the Hell the other man has disappeared to. 

After about seven minutes, panting, flushed, and defeated Jongin returns to the bookshop, phones still clutched in his hands, to the confused and expectant face of Baekhyun. “Did you find him?” Baekhyun asks as soon as Jongin walks through the door. Jongin holds up Jongdae’s phone in response, shaking his head as he flops into the chair he’d been siting at earlier.

Then suddenly Baekhyun is grinning like a madman and Jongin isn’t sure he really wants to know. “What?” he finally asks, because Baekhyun wont stop grinning at him and it’s creepy. 

“Dude, he left his phone on purpose,” Baekhyun says, practically writhing with the revelation. 

“No,” Jongin says, feeling his face heat. “I doubt-“

“Jongin, I will hit you with Moby Dick!” Baekhyun says, grabbing the book from a shelf and wielding it threateningly. “Did you even read his letter?”

“How do you even know where that book is?” Jongin asks, aghast at Baekhyun, who actually looks really intimidating holding the large novel. “And yes I read his letter! But why would he leave his phone if he gave me his phone number?”

Baekhyun blinks and lowers the book slightly. Then he frowns and drops it to his side. “But, it would make sense that he leave it to have an excuse to come back, talk, and then you two can snuggle forever by firelight.”

Jongin just looks at Baekhyun. “I don’t understand your brain sometimes,” he says before running a hand through his hair, turning to stare at the phone in his hand. “Do we just keep it here? I mean, he comes in practically every day, maybe we can just give it to him next time he-“

Jongin is cut off by the sound of the door bell tinkling lightly and both boys look up, startled out of their conversation. Kim Jongdae, their familiar stranger, is standing halfway inside the shop, watching the two boys with mild curiosity. Jongin feels himself go entirely red. On autopilot, he gets up, fumbling slightly, and walks towards Kim Jongdae, holding the phone tightly in his hand. 

“Um,” Jongin starts, ever verbose before clearing his throat. “You, ah, you forgot this.” He holds out the phone towards the other man, who, he notes, is just slightly shorter than himself. 

Kim Jongdae smiles, an amused quirk to his lips. “Thanks for keeping it safe for me,” he says and Jongin just grins, not entirely sure if his face looks retarded or not. Jongdae seems to hesitate for a moment, eyes on Jongin. “You’re an good artist, by the way,” he says, still smiling.

Jongin feels his grin widen as his face flares. “Thanks,” he says. “I’m glad you liked the drawing.” He pauses for a moment before plunging ahead. “Do you know Bonobo?”

Jongdae blinks at him. “Bonobo?” he repeats, looking nonplussed.

Jongin rubs a hand at the back of his head. “Yeah,” he says, feeling horrifically awkward and laughing slightly. “I just recognized some of the artists you put down and, well, Bonobo seems like something you might like.”

Jongdae smiles at him, wide and ridiculously warm. “I’m not actually that familiar with Bonobo,” he says, shifting his weight. 

“Well, Jongin’s off today, so why don’t you two go talk about Bonobob or whatever,” Baekhyun says suddenly, shoving Jongin from behind and causing the taller to stumble forward clumsily. 

Now much closer to Jongdae, Jongin looks down and feels his hands itch. “Uuuh,” he manages. 

“You’re off?” Kim Jongdae asks, eyebrows raising slightly as he looks at Jongin.

Jongin straightens up, having been slightly hunched from Baekhyun’s push. “Yeah, I was just here to keep Baekhyunnie company,” he says, voice laughing slightly as he rubs a hand against his arm. “I’m sorry, you’re probably busy and Baekhyun always likes to have his crazy i-“

“Sure, why not,” Jongdae cuts him off, eyes dancing as they meet with Jongin’s. “Do you like raspberry tarts?”

“What?” Jongin asks, because honestly, what?

“Raspberry tarts,” Jongdae repeats, his mouth curving up significantly. “There’s a shop a few streets over that has amazing pastries and their raspberry tart are basically heaven. I was actually on my way over there when I realized I’d forgotten my phone.” He smiles and Jongin can feel it in his fingers. “I’m heading back there now. Want to join me? You can tell me about Bonobo and what it’s like to work in a bookshop for hipsters.”

Jongin feels himself smiling, slowly feeling oddly at ease around the stranger he’s practically been spying on for the last few months. “I’ve never been asked out for raspberry tarts,” he says and ignores the noises Baekhyun is making behind him. 

“Well, I’ve never been given a drawing message in a bookstore, so we’re even,” Jongdae says and laughs slightly and Jongin can’t keep himself from smiling. In unspoken agreement, the two make their way out of the shop and down a side street Jongin had seen many times but never really gone down. Something about it had always seems slightly foreboding. However, now, walking down just a few steps behind Kim Jongdae, it’s not so much foreboding as curious. Somehow, he has the odd sensation that the walls are just as interested in what he’s doing here as he is.

“So, are you an artist when you’re not stacking books?” Jongdae asks as they walk, turning his head slightly. 

“Student,” Jongin says, feeling slightly embarrassed to be admitting that. Though he’s not sure why. “I’m studying at Hongdae right now.”

“Art student then?” Jongdae asks, eyebrows raised and mouth smiling as always. “Though I don’t know, considering you seem a little too well put together and clean to be a full out art student.”

Jongin smiles, his mouth stretching at the comment. “No, actually. Art minor. Dance major.”

“Dance major?” Kim Jongdae says, turning down a wider street and making towards a small shop with striped awnings. His eyes rake up Jongin’s form and the taller boy feels his stomach turn upside down. “I can see that. You have the form of a dancer. I bet you’re graceful.”

“I’d like to think so,” Jongin says, flashing his teeth in a smile. “Otherwise I’ve been clearly lying to myself for years now, and that’d be depressing.” He pauses, pressing his lips together for a moment as they enter the small shop. He looks around. 

It’s actually really nice. Not almost disgustingly cute like the majority of pasty shops are, but well decorated. Dark wooden walls with old brass and iron fixtures accenting the decor. There is a pastry display holding dozens of cakes and tarts and other confections and it smells of baking. There are small tables with wicker chairs and plain dark brown pillows and it’s very comfortable. 

“So, what about you?” Jongin asks, following Jongdae to the dessert display and looking at the other man rather than the tarts. “What is it exactly that you do when you come in all the time?”

Kim Jongdae is looking into the display case, his dark eyes lingering on the right side where there are ornate tarts lined up according to their contents. Blueberry, Cheese, mixed fruit, raspberry, cheese, chocolate almond cream. “I come in to work,” he says, eyes flitting to the side at Jongin, his mouth still smiling that small ever-present smile. 

“So you don’t have a normal 9-5 job?” Jongin asks, finally looking at the display case and leaning towards a chocolate… something that looks demonically delicious. 

Kim Jongdae’s laugh is like heaven on ears. “No, I usually take night shifts at a music store,” he says, and Jongin notices he holds his hands behind himself when he stands, the right gripping the first two fingers of the left as they rest just below his tailbone. Then he realizes looking there might be inappropriate. He looks away quickly, up at Jongdae and sees the other smiling, his eyes whispering that he knows exactly where Jongin had just been looking.

“So what do you work on at the shop?” Jongin asks, trying to beat away the blush working its way across his features. 

“I write,” Jongdae says, moving towards the counter and nodding to the cashier who shuffles up and smiles in greeting. “Hey Lu Han, can I get one of your raspberry tarts and …” He breaks off looking at Jongin expectantly, the sweet-faced cashier looking at him curiously. 

“Same,” Jongin says, feeling himself stumble over the word in a rush.

Jongdae smiles. “Make that two raspberry tarts,” Jongdae tells the cashier, Lu Han. Lu Han nods at him, smiling in a very endearing manner and moving over to the dessert cabinet. 

“Do you ever get anything else?” the man named Lu Han asks as he glances over at Jongdae. “Honestly, you’re like clockwork.”

“They’re delicious,” Jongdae says, shrugging. “Why would I change up and get something not amazing.”

“Are you saying all of my other sweets are repulsive?” Lu Han asks, straightening up with two raspberry tarts, an expression of mock hurt on his features. 

“I’m saying I know what I like, so that’s what I choose,” Jongdae says and Lu Han gives him a look that suggests he knows something no one else does but says nothing. Jongdae pays for the tarts, pushing away Jongin’s hand when the younger fumbles for his wallet. “You’re a student,” he says, and his voice has no room for protest. 

They sit and Jongin feels just slightly uncomfortable. “So, you’re a writer?” Jongin asks, going back to what they had been talking about before they had ordered the tarts. 

“I’d like to call myself that,” Jongdae says, smiling as he takes a small bite of his tart, humming gently as his teeth sink into the confection and Jongin has to look somewhere, anywhere, but at the man opposite him. 

“So all the papers and stuff you bring with you-“ Jongin begins faintly, staring at the napkin holder in the center of the table. 

“My notes on stories and plots and character profiles,” Jongdae says, putting down the tart and wiping his thumb across his bottom lip. Jongin glances up at the movement and his eyes stay stuck on Jongdae’s mouth as the other drags his thumb across it. 

“What kind of stories do you write?” Jongin asks, picking up his tart and trying to take a bite, missing is mouth slightly because he’s still staring at Jongdae’s mouth, but he finally manages to get the confection into his mouth and oooh sweet Jesus in sin.

“No one should ever make those noises,” Jongdae says, voice slightly tight across from him as Jongin goes into some sort of state of ecstacy because nothing is as delicious as the tart current between his lips and on his tongue. “I’m pretty sure that’s the most pornography sound I’ve hear someone make. Ever.”

“I feel like my mouth just orgasmed,” Jongin moans, not even thinking as he closes his eyes and tries to understand what is in his mouth. This has to be the most delicious thing he’s ever had in his life. 

“I told you the tarts were delicious,” Jongdae says and Jongin finally opens his eyes. Kim Jongdae is staring at him, mouth parted just slightly and eyes intense, a light dusting of pink spread over his cheeks. It’s ridiculously cute and he’s handsome and attractive and Jongin wonders if he tastes good too.

“Yeah, they are,” Jongin practically breathes out and then goes red because why did that have to sound so sexual. He ducks his head and takes another bite of his tart, closing his eyes because now he’s thinking of Jongdae’s face and mouth and his mouth is full of tart from the Gods and there’s too much amazing right now for him to handle. 

“I’m pretty sure Lu Han is trying to actually make someone pass out from the way he bakes his desserts,” Jongdae says, and his eyes glint when Jongin looks up and he briefly wonders if the other man is gloating.

“You never answered my question,” Jongin says, trying to get himself together as he puts his tart down. That thing is dangerous. “What kind of stories do you write?”

Jongdae’s fingers fidget slightly on the edge of his tart, holding it in front of him lazily. “Mostly realistic fiction. Contemporary stuff about people struggling with concepts of reality.”

Jongin raises his eyebrows. “That sounds pretty cool.”

“I had a few stories published but nothing big,” Jongdae says, taking a small nibble from his tart, his tongue darting out to catch a spare crumb and Jongin swallows. “Nothing major yet. I’m working on something that will hopefully get my name out there.” His eyes crease slightly in amusement. “Your eyes are really intense when you watch something,” he comments.

“I’ve had lots of practice,” Jongin says, clearing his throat because that just sounds creepy. 

Jongdae smirks. “So I’ve noticed.” And it suddenly occurs to Jongin that maybe he wasn’t the only one watching.  
  
  
  
Baekhyun sighs, his eyes staring at the ceiling as Jongin’s phone blips again for what seems like the millionth time this morning. “Dear God in heaven, can you please tell your snugglekins to stop texting you? You’re developing a nervous twitch.”

Jongin sticks out his tongue at the other boy, who pulls a face in retaliation, hands automatically going to his pocket and fishing out his phone. “Honestly, you’re just jealous because you’re alone and bitter.”

“Stop making me sound like an old cat lady,” Baekhyun pouts, voice whining as he tries to kick at Jongin’s calves, the tan boy grinning stupidly as the two dance around behind the counter. Baekhyun trying to kick Jongin and Jongin dancing away from his offending feet, the two breaking out into laughter and horribly immature grins. “I refuse to grow old and alone with at least 14 cats!”

“Cat Lady Baekhyun!” Jongin sing-songs as Sehun grins at the two from where he’s rearranging the travel books. “Doomed to die old and alone surrounded by his furry lovers!”

Baekhyun gives up and scurries over to Sehun, arms flapping slightly at his sides and he looks like a pouting child. “Sehunnie! Make him stop! I’m too pretty to be alone and reduced to collecting cats!” He collapses in a lump onto the younger boy with a loud “umph!” and Sehun bursts out laughing. “And please take away Jongin’s phone! I’ve never been jealous of technology and I don’t want to be!”

“Baekhyun, stop whining,” Jongin says, leaning on the counter and flipping open his phone, checking the message from Jongdae and grinning madly. “Besides, you are practically dating Chanyeol anyway. You two are basically retarded in love.”

“Chanyeol is my best friend,” Baekhyun whines, still on top of a struggling Sehun. “We’re not dating.”

“You could be,” Sehun says, trying to push Baekhyun off but the older boy just rolls over and squishes him again. Sehun lets out a loud grunt. 

“No, we can’t, because Chanyeol couldn’t date a wall,” Baekhyun moans. “Besides, we’re practically brothers and I am firmly against incest.”

“Stop lying to yourself and go confess, Juliet,” Jongin says, typing back a fast response to Jongdae and flipping his phone shut. 

After finally managing to finish eating his raspberry tart, Jongin had ended up spending the rest of the day with Jongdae, talking and finding himself surprisingly comforted by the older mans presence. Jongdae, as it turned out, was incredibly warm and friendly, despite how quiet he was in the bookshop. He smiled like gold and Jongin’s quiet stalking interest had quickly shifted into the biggest crush he had ever had in his life once Jongdae and he started talking about music. 

Jongdae had graduated just the year before, double majoring in music and literature. He worked at a music shop run by his friend and roommate and wrote during the day to try to get his writing career off the ground. They had argued for a little while over hip hop music before Jongin had shown why he liked it so much by dancing and Jongdae had basically told him he was the human emblem of arousal. 

After that, Jongin finally realized that Jongdae hadn’t been coming in every day just because of the books and atmosphere and the two had been texting and meeting like stupidly infatuated school children nearly every day. He’d never been so giddy in all of his life. 

“I hate you,” Baekhyun moaned, finally rolling off of Sehun and getting up. “You and your happiness and I never should have encouraged you to talk to ‘our friend’ because now you’re basically insufferable.”

“Oh stop, you’re delighted your matchmaking worked out,” Jongin tells the shorter boy as Baekhyun walks back to the counter. “You were gloating for a week.”

“He’s just sad he doesn't have anyone to match make for him,” Sehun says, pulling himself back up to return to the travel books. “You know Baekhyun is sensitive and lonely.”

“I just need somebody to love!” Baekhyun moans, immediately regretting it when both Jongin and Sehun start belting out Queen’s ‘Somebody to Love’. “Why do I know people like you?” Baekhyun wails as Jongin wraps his arms around the shorter and rocks him back and forth to the song. 

The bell by the door rings faintly and all three of the boys look up, a smile splitting across Jongin’s face as Jongdae walks in, his mouth in that constant familiar smile as his eyes meet Jongin’s. Behind him, Yixing wanders in, looking bemused. Jongin swiftly untangles himself from Baekhyun and leans across the counter as Jongdae walks up. 

“Hey you,” he says, feeling his chest swell with happiness as Jongdae comes opposite him and leans towards him from the other side of the counter. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” Jongdae says, mouth in a teasing grin. “I was just in the neighborhood and figured I’d swing by and see how you were doing. You haven’t set anything on fire yet, have you?”

“No, the pyrotechnics have been kept at a minimum,” Jongin says, reaching for one of Jongdae’s hands and playing with his fingers. They’re not huge, instead slightly broad, the nails short with strength hidden in them. “Hi, Yixing,” he adds, looking over at Yixing who looks slightly dazed as he glances around the shop. 

Yixing looks over, his face turning out a smile and his right cheek dimples in a way that Jongin has always found adorable. “Hey, I wanted to make sure you’re still up for practicing our routine tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten,” Jongin says, slouching over the counter slightly as Jongdae’s fingers play with his. “4 o’clock right?”

“Yeah,” Yixing says, nodding before turning and wandering though the shop, hands casually in his pockets. 

“Why is everyone you know attractive?” Baekhyun mumbles from behind the register and Jongin meets Sehun’s eyes from across the shop and they share a smirk. 

“I’m going on a break!” Jongin announces, standing up and taking Jongdae’s hand in his own, swiftly walking around the counter to the other man, smiling brightly. 

“What-?” Baekhyun says, eyes widening as he looks at Jongin’s grinning face. 

“I’ll be back in 15… or something,” Jongin says brightly and laces his fingers with Jongdae’s, pulling the older man from the shop before Baekhyun can protest further. 

“You’re a brat,” Jongdae tells Jongin as they walk from the bookshop, his eyes warm as they look into Jongin’s. 

“You like me anyway,” Jongin says, squeezing their hands slightly and pulling them down the now familiar alleyway to Lu Han’s bakery. Jongdae tugs him back and Jongin stumbles for a second, just long enough for Jongdae to lean up slightly and press his lips to the younger’s temple. 

“Yeah, I do,” Jongdae says, his voice warm and soothing and Jongin glows. “Now, off to raspberry tarts and the sounds you make when you eat them.”

That evening, as Jongdae packs up his work and Jongin finishes his shift and the two walk to Jongdae’s apartment, Jongin feels like this is some sort of dream. But, he contemplates as he curls up on Jongdae’s mattress, snuggled together as Jongdae shows him one of his short stories, if this is a dream, he never wants to wake up. Because this is perfection.


End file.
